TLC Gibbs' Style
by Obsessed Pam
Summary: Tony has done it again - got himself into trouble and he is now having to face the unpleasant results of his own actions. Gibbs decides to intervene.
1. Chapter 1

_Though not new to fanfic writing, this is my first attempt at writing NCIS fic. I am following a well worn trail with the subject matter, but I trust you'll find it entertaining. I certainly enjoyed writing it._

**NCIS - T.L.C. Gibbs' Style!**

Part 1

"DiNozzo, get through to the Director, let her know that the perps are being taken into custody as we speak and then get on to Fornell - ditto."

An unhealthy silence greeted the senior agent's request as he waited for confirmation.

"DiNozzo?" The tone was most clearly moving from irritated to pure pissed-off mode and McGee, facing Gibbs, tried neither wincing nor stepping back from the impending inferno.

"Command Post, do you read?"

There was no mistaking the ice beneath the words substantiated when the silence was broken by a clearly diffident voice.

"Sir, Special Agent DiNozzo isn't here."

It was Lee's voice, softly tremulous and oh, so not ready to be in the firing line of one of Gibbs' tirades.

Slowing his breath, the ex-marine allowed the rain that was currently lashing down an attempt to cool his raging temper. It didn't work, but at least it allowed him time to bring said temper under some form of control until he could let it rip loose on one recalcitrant member of his team.

He spoke softly. "Where is he?"

The voice on the other end of the radio stopped and started worse than an old jalopy.

"He...er...he--."

"Lee, whatever threat DiNozzo is holding over you is, I assure you, nothing compared to what I will do to you if you don't give me an answer in the next second!" Gibbs tone had risen incrementally so that towards the end of his sentence he was roaring the final words.

"He's...here!" Her relief was palpable even over the radio and Gibbs closed his eyes, but whether this was from his own release of tension or otherwise, McGee was unable to ascertain.

The slightly husky voice of one senior field agent came confidently over the radio connection.

"You wanted me, Boss?"

Tony was clearly going for the 'pretend-nothing's-wrong' scenario and plying it to perfection. It did aid his performance that Gibbs' hand wasn't in the immediate vicinity to sabotage his skill.

"Where've you been, DiNozzo?"

The question was deceptively calm.

There was a slight pause, but not enough to have the grey-haired man reacting.

"If I said the 'head' would you believe me?"

Silence was the only answer.

"Thought not, but it was worth a try."

More silence ensued.

"Boss, I suddenly realised that the perps might try to attempt a break out through the cellar delivery exit and--."

The irritating tickle that had been making itself known erupted into a fully fledged coughing fit and Tony's explanation was cut short for the next few moments until he gained control of his voice box.

"Phew...sorry...about that. Now, where was I, oh yeah, so I--."

"Do you mean to tell me you've been outside all this time?"

There was a significant pause before a hesitant affirmation was given.

"What happened to Agent Denny? Wasn't that part of his area?" Then not bothering to wait for an answer, Gibbs sharply ordered the command post, a reinforced truck with ultra high-tech surveillance equipment, to return to Headquarters.

--

Back in the bullpen, Tony's eyes shot up yet again as the elevator doors slip open. When only Agent David emerged he subsided back into his seat and attempted a nonchalance that didn't in any way fool the Israeli.

Stopping in front of his desk, Ziva scrutinized the senior field agent for far longer than was necessary so that finally, Tony looked up and leeringly stated, "How far have you got?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well, there's only one reason you can be staring so long. You must be undressing me, trying to check out my naked body." His eyebrows rose suggestively, encouraging Ziva to step back in disgust. "So, how far? And if you've made it to my Armani silk boxers, I've got to tell you--."

Snorting in an unladylike manner, Ziva retorted superciliously, "The only reason I'm looking is to imprint this moment in my memory, because when Gibbs gets hold of you," and now the dark-haired woman could not hide her satisfaction at the prospect, "there will be nothing left that is recognisable!"

Unwilling to show how much her words had rankled him, Tony replaced the leer with a powerful DiNozzo megawatt smile.

"Don't know what you're talking about Zee-vah. The Boss will be pleased I used my initiative."

Continuing on to her desk, the Israeli's dark eyes widened dramatically.

"Oh, and it is that initiative that has you still sitting in damp clothes when you've only just recovered from that viral infection that--?"

"You said it, Zee-Vah." The added emphasis to her name revealed Tony's irritation. "Viral, therefore the elements don't come into play."

He sounded like a seven year old playing his winning card. He didn't care.

"Maybe not then," countered his female colleague, "but now?" She allowed the question to hang in the air for a moment before continuing, "Just you wait, Tony, you are going to get an eyeful when Gibbs gets back."

Even in his discomfort, Tony couldn't resist correcting her. "Ear."

"What?"

"It's an earful."

The Israeli rolled her large brown eyes. "Whatever, ear, eye, ass - you're going to get it and I, for one do not intend to be a witness to such slaughter. If Gibbs asks, I'm with Abby - she may have come up with some results on the evidence I brought in. And Tony?"

He looked up, his brave face not quite as heroic as it had been when she had first walked in.

"If he offers you a choice - take the bullet. It's over quickly - very little pain."

She was still laughing when she re-entered the elevator causing Tony's consternation to rise a little higher.

But as so often happens in these circumstances, the cause of Tony's unease did not make an appearance in the immediate future and the field leader had just begun to think that his concern might have been for nothing. After all, if Gibbs hadn't already descended on him like the proverbial bat from hell, it couldn't be that bad, could it? He'd allowed his fertile imagination to get the better of him and he gave himself a metaphorical slap behind his head just as his internal phone rang.

"DiNozzo."

"Anthony, my dear boy, I've just been talking to Jethro and it appears he's somewhat concerned."

"Really?" Tony couldn't help the smile that graced his lips. After all concern equalled not angry equalled no pain for one Special Agent which in turn equalled one very happy Tony DiNozzo.

"Yes, so would you permit me to check you over so that I can lay Jethro's concerns to rest?"

Tony scowled, but didn't convey his disquiet to the Medical Examiner.

"Okay, Ducky, but it's a waste of your valuable time. Just let me finish typing up my report. You know how antsy the Boss gets if the 'i's aren't dotted and the 't's aren't crossed...By the way, how did he sound to you?"

"Sound?" The M.E. clearly had no idea what the younger man was alluding to, or if he had he considered it in the best interests of the agent to conceal it.

"Yea, you know. Was he his normal exuberant self or was he er...how can I put it? It rhymes with missed but starts with a 'p'."

The sound of chuckling could clearly be heard and Tony stared at his receiver suspiciously before returning it to his ear.

"Oh, no doubt you'll find out for yourself very soon, Anthony."

Tony grimaced as he replaced the phone on its stand. He hoped not too soon. Maybe he could fake his own kidnapping or something equally serious which might just save him from the dressing down of all dressings down.

Reaching for the bottle of water to ease the dryness in his throat, he realised glumly that he'd finished it while at the same time he wondered irritably why the heat had suddenly been turned up. He pulled distastefully at his t-shirt, grimacing at the obvious dampness. He really should go to his locker and change, except it all seemed too much of an effort. The heat being what it was, it would dry on him in minutes, he was sure of it.

He was however to wish he had bothered.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

_Warning: Language_

T.L.C. Gibbs' Style

Part 2

The hand slamming down on his desk millimetres from his face alerted him to the cold stark reality that one - Gibbs was back and two - Gibbs was pissed. Then it hit him that his cheek was up close and far too comfortable with his desk and that there was a dribble of saliva at the corner of his mouth.

_Hell no, please don't let Gibbs have caught me sleeping on the job!_

Reflex action had him shooting up out of his seat, grabbing his damp jacket and backpack while calling huskily, "On it, Boss!"

Until, that is, he realised there wasn't anything to be 'on'; the case was solved.

Carefully and a little sheepishly, he settled back into his chair, willing the dizziness caused by his missile ascending act to disappear. Reaching for his keyboard, he willed his focus to stop blurring in and out as he attempted to make some show of doing something, _anything_ that might delay the wrath of Gibbs falling on his weary shoulders.

It was hard to ignore the all too dangerously close proximity of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS agent extraordinaire who seemed to have the uncanny ability to catch him at the most ill-timed moments (and he really would have to ask one day how Gibbs managed that - one day; then again...maybe not). Tony concentrated all his attention on his screen and hoped against hope that the unyielding presence would move away and bother someone else.

"Almost done, Boss. Just a few more--."

"Did Ducky call you?"

The young agent frowned. He had a vague recollection of a phone call, but couldn't quite put his finger on exactly when it had taken place.

Out of his peripheral vision he saw the hand moving to connect with his head and knew miserably that it would hurt more than normal. Wincing in anticipation of the blow he literally jerked away when the palm of Gibbs' hand came to rest momentarily against his hot forehead.

In his confusion, Tony was aware of a muffled curse and then he was being hauled out of his seat, a firm grip on the back of his t-shirt as if he needed the extra encouragement.

"David!"

The ex-Mossad oficer had appeared as if by magic at her superior's summons.

"Get him out of those wet clothes and into scrubs then get him to Ducky."

Tony could feel himself colouring under the intense scrutiny of both agents and prepared to protest.

"And if he so much as raises a finger to whinge - whack him!"

As the doors to the elevator slid shut, Gibbs heard a hoarse voice state smugly, "What? No foreplay Zee-vah?"

Rolling his eyes, the silver-haired agent promised himself he'd give Tony a good smack later.

--

Dr. Donald Mallard looked away from the x-ray he had been perusing on the light board, nodding amiably when he saw his guests entering autopsy.

"Ah, Ziva, I see you have brought our reluctant Anthony. Jethro here has just been telling me he thinks you might have a temperature, my boy."

Tony tried his best to look healthy and animated as he extricated his arm from the Israeli's grip and the ex-gunny was left trying to work out whether the heightened colour on his agent's cheeks was from the fever or from the embarrassment of being stripped by David.

"Really?" Tony made it sound as if it were the most outlandish idea ever put forward. There was nothing like being positive, after all.

"Well, if a fever, wet clothes and glazed eyes is anything to go by..." Gibbs sounded bored.

It was the M.E.s turn to scowl, particularly when he'd given his patient careful perusal. He didn't like what he was seeing.

"Oh dear, didn't I tell you it was of the utmost importance to take care of your health after all you've been through?"

Gibbs found himself included in that reproachful stare and didn't like it.

In the course of his lecture, the older man accompanied Tony to an autopsy table and produced a stethoscope.

"Sit yourself down, get out of that top and let's have a listen to those lungs of yours, shall we?...Deep breath...In...Out. And again."

The frown grew deeper.

As Gibbs watched the examination, he asked softly, "And maybe my senior field agent would care to explain why he decided to ignore my order to stay in the Command Post."

Dr. Mallard paused, giving Tony a critical look as he assimilated just what Gibbs had revealed. It was a rare occasion indeed that someone dared to disobey an order of L.J. Gibbs. This should be interesting except...he returned his stethoscope to the spot on Tony's back that he had just been listening to.

"Oh dear."

"Ducky?" Gibbs' head shot up as he directed a hard look at the bare chest of his agent.

"There are clear signs of congestion, Jethro."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he's off the duty roster as we speak."

"Aw, come on Ducky, just because I've got a--."

It wasn't often the Medical Examiner was short-tempered with Tony; he seemed to have a particularly soft spot for the young agent, but this was one time he felt the need for some harsh reality.

"Meaning, young man, you are on a one-way trip to some enforced bed rest."

"But I'm--."

"You are sick!" Mallard declared emphatically. "There are no two ways of looking at it."

Sitting on the table under the hawk eyes of the two older men and one woman, Tony's vulnerability revealed itself in an unusually sullen attitude.

"It's just a cold," he muttered.

The firm prod in his chest startled him and made him sit up a little straighter.

"Go on like this and you'll be in hospital before I can say Christopher Robin."

The Israeli couldn't help it, she opened her mouth only to see Gibbs shake his head - the message not to go there was loud and clear. She gave a slight nod in acknowledgement.

"Right, Ziva stay with DiNozzo. DiNozzo, stay put!" And fixing Tony with a baleful glare, the ex-gunny stated flatly, "If he tries to move off that table - cuff him to it."

"What if I need the head?" Tony couldn't help the whine in his voice.

Gibbs continued walking.

"Give him a bottle, David."

"Bo-oss!"

--

It had been a good half hour before Gibbs had returned, picked up a prescription from the M.E. and began to usher a clearly exhausted senior field agent from the building.

"Er...where are we going, Boss?"

"Home."

Tony bit his lower lip feeling the tremor of apprehension.

"That would be my home, right?"

No answer.

He began to dawdle more than he had been, in answer to which the older man lost patience with the stalling tactics and took a firm hold of his arm, marching him past the parked cars at a more respectable pace.

Tony looked at the vehicle they had stopped beside. It wasn't his car. He wanted his vehicle.

Seeing the touch of stubbornness settle on his agent's pale face, Gibbs ordered, "Get in the damned car, DiNozzo."

Dr. Mallard had placed a warm blanket around the sick man's shoulders before he'd been allowed to leave and now as Tony settled into the passenger seat, he gripped it as tremors began to wrack his aching body.

"I...I'm fine to go to my place, Gibbs," he persisted. "I don't--."

"Need a babysitter?" The sarcasm was bone dry. "That's a subject I'm sure Ducky would be willing to debate...I'm not!"

For an intense moment Tony felt his body burned by the infamous Gibbs' glare and out of self-preservation he chose to huddle down in his seat and pray that the remainder of the journey would pass in silence.

--

The passenger door being opened startled him; he must have dozed off - again, and with a churning feeling in his gut, Tony recognised the door to Gibbs' place.

He wasn't allowed to spend too much time digesting this unwelcome information as he alighted from the car, because he suddenly and inexplicably found himself having difficulty supporting his own weight as his legs chose this unfortunate moment to copy a marionette's awkward movements to perfection.

In the same instant a snort of disdain accompanied one of his arms being guided over Gibbs' shoulders and then he was hoisted up, up, up.

Wanting nothing more than to curl into nothing, he stammered, "Sss...sorry, Boss. Don't mean to--."

"Shut up and concentrate on walking, DiNozzo."

As they entered Gibbs' home and down the parquet floor hall, he would have liked nothing better than to be allowed to collapse on the sofa in the living room, but when Gibbs kept going, Tony allowed himself a small moan of complaint.

It was ignored, yet he had to admit that the bed he was deposited on wasn't as unwelcome as he'd thought. And when his head touched the pillow he had to seriously stifle another moan, uncomfortably aware that his boss wasn't looking all that happy.

Attempting to interpret that particular look, Tony was suddenly, forcefully struck by the deeply unpleasant thought that Gibbs had been forced by the M.E. to bring him here. He squirmed at the notion, his face flushing deeper than ever as he promised himself he'd be out of there at the first available opportunity. No way was he staying anywhere he wasn't wanted!

The cool hand on his forehead again brought him out of his painful musings and he watched the ex-marine place a glass of water and some tablets on the bedside table.

Tony stared at them, but his brain hadn't quite made the connection that pills and water were there to be taken. Thus, when his wrist was grasped and two pills slapped into his palm, he winced, having to force himself not to recoil from the unexpected touch. He didn't see the way Gibbs' eyes narrowed, didn't see his mouth tighten, yet still he sensed he'd managed to piss his boss off.

Snorting in exasperation, Gibbs snapped, "Are you going to take those sometime this month, DiNozzo?"

It was enough to startle him into action and he levered himself up and disposed of the medication, dropping on the goose down pillow with an audible sigh.

When he dared to look up, he was somewhat perplexed to see what looked like concern, etched in Gibb's blue eyes before the man turned away.

"Get some sleep, Tony. I'm going to get those meds."

"Boss, you don't--."

"Did you hear what I said, DiNozzo?" The warning was clear.

Nodding half-heartedly, Tony scooted further down into the bed. He'd made his decision; he'd pretend to take a nap and then, while Gibbs was away, he'd take off.

--

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

_Warning: Language_

T.L.C. Gibbs' Style

Part 3

He pushed the suffocating covers away, kicking them off, wishing the housemaid hadn't turned off the air conditioning. He hated these muggy nights when his parents were out leaving him with the hired help, except, and now a faint expectant smile touched his lips, he had his mother's return to look forward to and if he was really lucky he'd still be awake when she came in to brush his forehead with a tender goodnight kiss. He loved when that happened and he could drift back to sleep enveloped in her fragrant perfume that remained with him long after she'd retired.

And when the touch of a feather-light hand finally came, he groaned with an equal amount of pleasure and pain.

"Mom?"

"Shhhh, go to sleep, Tony."

He complied, too tired and too sick to do anything else.

--

A gentle hand behind his head raised him up and a glass was brought to his lips encouraging him to leave the in-between world he lay in. Opening bleary, blood-shot eyes, he realised Gibbs was again offering him medication.

_Damn - meant to be out of here before now._

"What did you just say?" The voice was dangerously soft.

And it was then that Tony's eyes widened in unmitigated horror.

_'No, no, no - tell me I didn't just say that out loud_?' he begged himself.

"DiNozzo!" The demand was sharper this time.

Squirming self-consciously, he stuttered sheepishly, "Er...thought it was time to...er...get out of your hair, Boss. I can as well lie down at home as bother you. I know how busy you--."

Blue eyes narrowed beneath dark brows.

"Shutting up now, Boss."

Exhaling a shaky breath, Tony automatically accepted the meds held out to him because that's what one did if one wanted to live.

But silently, he berated his weakness, hating this dependence when he knew Gibbs had better things to do than baby-sit an agent who was only sick because he couldn't follow orders.

He allowed himself to be settled back and watched, colouring uncomfortably, as Gibbs straightened his bed sheets.

"Did you have a fight with anyone, DiNozzo?"

Grinning weakly, he offered a typical upbeat reply.

"Well, while you were out, Charleze Theron paid a call and things got a little..." He caught the glare, though if he wasn't mistaken there did seem to be a hint of a smile lurking deep down. "Shutting up again, Boss."

--

It was late in the evening when he next awoke and, aghast at the time, he made his way cautiously down to where he knew Gibbs would be working on his boat. As he circumvented the pitfalls of descending stairs with a spinning head he caught the tail end of a conversation and felt his insides quail.

"...he's a lazy son of a bitch and needs his ass kicking, and if he's not careful I'll be the one..."

Tony hastily shrank back into the shadows, flinching as a myriad of emotions raced across his clammy face and, creeping back up the stairs, he ensured that the ex-gunny hadn't spotted him.

Shit! He knew he should have got out of there before. He'd done nothing but sleep and now he'd managed to piss Gibbs off even more than ever. And who in their right mind could blame him he thought miserably.

He stared down at the scrubs he was wearing and grimaced. No car, no money and no keys, but the keys and money wouldn't pose too much of a problem. The doorman on duty at his apartment block would let him into both the building and his place and he'd lend him the money for the cab he was intending getting until he could reimburse him with a well-earned tip to boot.

Tony would have smiled to himself for sorting it all out with the minimum of fuss except he was burning with humiliation and the last thing he considered was giving himself a metaphorical pat on the back for a job well thought, not when Gibbs felt he was slacking. All he really wanted was to curl up in his own bed and hide away until he felt better.

He swore under his breath, hands clenched tightly as he strove to gain some equilibrium. Hell, he couldn't honestly help it if he was doped on medication that made him do nothing but snore his life away! Sometimes life sucked, and this was definitely one of those times.

--

Glad of the darkness that hid his inappropriate garb - otherwise no driver in his right mind would stop when he hailed it - he set off, having decided it wouldn't be a wise move to call a cab to Gibbs' house. He'd go out and find one.

Hunching his shoulders up to his ears to ward off the biting cold of the night, he hoped the brief note which he had hastily scribbled and left on his pillow would put his boss's mind to rest.

Thankful that the rain had almost stopped, Tony headed in the direction of the busier streets that were sure to have a passing cab or two.

--

He was utterly miserable. And if he were truthful, after walking for a mere ten minutes, he would admit he was feeling like something approximating what was normally to be found on one of Ducky's tables.

He just wished that his body would make up its f-cking mind because one minute it was wracked by deep, bone chilling tremors and then it would escalate into hot flashes which burned his skin and had his scrubs sticking uncomfortably to his body. It was a cycle of unbearable misery and long before he'd trudged to the end of Gibbs' street he was aware of how utterly weak and spent he was. If a cab didn't come soon he'd be tempted to just lie down and...

His eyes widened as the welcome lights of a vacant cab approached and Tony raised an arm that felt almost too heavy to move and hailed. At that same moment the screeching of tyres under severe braking pressure impacted his dull senses and for a terrifying second he thought some drunk driver had lost control of his vehicle and with his luck the blasted thing was about to thump into him.

It didn't.

As he willed his tense body to relax, he heard the slamming of a door and then the harsh invective before he felt the violent hold on his scrubs which literally took him off his feet. Unable to resist, he was flung around and for a few terrifying seconds he had very little recollection of anything other than eyes so hard he could almost believe they were shooting fine shards of pain into his aching body as he was given a good shaking.

But as a furious ex-marine forced Tony to face him, the flushed features and glazed eyes of the young agent caused his blistering anger to deflate a little as worry overrode his original emotion.

He loosened his hold to one of support only to have his senior field agent jerk out of his reach, stumbling unsteadily as he approached the now stationery cab.

Stooping to see the driver through the lowered window, Tony mumbled his address with a racing heart yet with a reckless determination borne of experience under duress.

Straightening, he turned around to face his boss, eyes bright, much too bright in the dark street.

"Thanks for the T.L.C., Boss - I'm good to go now."

Blue eyes narrowed as Gibbs' jaw clenched tightly.

"You think so, DiNozzo?"

Gibbs watched as Tony self-consciously swiped a scrub sleeve under his runny nose. He shrugged wryly, mumbling, "Forgot my tissues."

"You forgot something else too...I don't leave anyone behind."

Tony frowned, far too weary to attempt to work it out, but as he moved to open the passenger door of the cab, Gibbs stepped forward, flashed his badge at the driver and authoritatively stated, "This man's just escaped custody. I'm taking him back - you'll have to find yourself another customer."

Shock drained every vestige of colour from his cheeks, as Tony growled, "What the hell? Hey, wait, I--."

Before he could finish what he wanted to say, he was tugged back allowing the cab to draw away.

Resentment flared white-hot bright as he jerked away rigid with anger, so that Gibbs was no longer sure what controlled the heightened colour in Tony's cheeks.

Willing himself to hold on to the fury that wanted to do nothing more than put a fist into that smug, self-satisfied bastard's face, Tony shot him a venomous look and ground out, "You shouldn't have done that, Boss."

It was an effort to swallow his own tirade of frustrated obscenities but the sick man's eyes told their own story.

"Let Ducky decide on that one, DiNozzo. Now get in the car before you fall on your ass and I have to explain why I let you out when you are out of your head with fever!"

Staring directly into the ex-marine's frosty eyes, Tony stated gruffly, obstinately "I want to go home."

"Not an option." Then feeling his ire rising with his headstrong agent, Gibbs drawled mockingly, "I can offer you an alternative - hospital."

The older man didn't miss the dark, mutinous glare, but Gibbs was grimly determined.

"Your choice, DiNozzo - you've got three seconds and then I'm going to bodily put you in the truck and leave you in the combined hands of Dr. Pitt and Ducky and let them deal with you."

Hiding his relief, Gibbs watched as Tony moodily slunk to the passenger side of his truck and got in. The grey-haired man took his own seat, staring ahead and waiting before he started the engine.

"What's it to be?"

There was no answer, but it was good enough for the ex-gunny.

--

The sun was high behind the closed curtains when Tony tiredly managed to crack open one eye.

He turned his head and shoulders and a groan whispered from his dry lips as every muscle and bone in his body started a simultaneous and concerted protest over said movement. He stilled, feeling drained of all energy, a used-up, discarded husk.

The creaking of a chair warned Tony that someone was close, and dreading who it was, his eyes shot closed, but unfortunately, he wasn't quick enough to hide the fact that he was awake from one with expert medical skills.

"Ah, Anthony, you've decided to join us - good." Ducky ran a hand over the back of his neck, easing the muscles that had stiffened as he'd napped in the chair beside the bed. "After your little escapade last night you've given Jethro and me a little scare."

And in an instant Tony had a flashback of twisting and turning in fever, taking comfort in brief lucid moments from cooling cloths that washed across his burning body while at other times attempting to curl away from hands that were constantly insisting he lie still, take medication, stay in bed...

Shifting restlessly, he struggled to sit up, but the walls did a wild loop and the M.E. placed the flat of his hand against Tony's chest, ordering him to stay still.

As Ducky proceeded to give his patient the necessary checks of pulse, heart rate and temperature, he continued gently, "I must confess to contemplating admitting you to hospital, dear boy, and probably would have except Jethro convinced me that between the two of us we could tame this flu bug of yours."

Tony's eyes and head hurt, even his teeth and gums and yet Ducky's words made an impact on his throbbing brain.

_Gibbs convinced Ducky not to send me to hospital!_

He swallowed painfully. It hadn't been what he'd expected; it didn't make sense. "W...where's Gibbs?"

"Why? Do you want me to get him - I think he's just--."

"No!" Tony croaked as vehemently as he could. "I...I...er don't think I'm his favourite person right now."

The elderly M.E. smiled encouragingly. "Oh, I think you underestimate yourself, though I suspect there may be some form of sanction bestowed on you, and rightly so." Ducky's eyes flashed his irritation. "What in the world possessed you to undertake such an ill-considered act of downright...well, I can only describe it as--?"

"Stupidity?"

Tony jerked.

Gibbs had, unknown to the young agent, been lounging against the doorframe when he decided to enter into the conversation and he didn't miss Tony's breath catching in surprise, prelude to what was always a raw coughing fit.

In two strides he was on the opposite side to Ducky and the two in well-practiced motion eased Tony up, placing another pillow behind his shoulders so that the spasm passed quickly, leaving the patient gasping for breath.

"Precisely!" agreed Ducky when Tony started to relax. "And I would normally not harass someone as ill as you, my boy, but I must ensure there is no repeat of your foolishness. You could so easily have --."

"'s 'kay, Ducky."

"I beg to differ, dear boy, it isn't okay, not by a long shot."

And at that moment Tony would have given anything not to be where he was, to be able to vanish through a hole in the floor or better yet, to be beamed up by Scotty and whisked away to another galaxy far, far away, but his weakness precluded any chance of escaping this lecture so he plastered a suitably chastened expression on his face and lay quietly in the hope that his acquiescence would mollify the good doctor.

The agent had, however, unpredictably forgotten that the M.E. wasn't the only one he was going to have to answer to.

"So Ducky, what sort of punishment do you think would fit the offence?"

--

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

T.L.C. Gibbs' Style

Part 4

Inscrutability vanished instantly though Tony dropped his chin to his chest better to hide what might be revealed in his green eyes. And his alarm was to intensify as the M.E. appeared to give the question careful consideration.

"Tell me, Ducky," the older agent continued, "what sort of punishment did you get as a kid?"

The invalid would have liked nothing better than to point out that he wasn't a kid, only he knew he'd be wasting what little breath he had.

Resuming his seat, the M.E. rested his chin in his hand, the epitome of deep deliberation.

Tony shuddered and not from sickness.

"Ahhh, now let me see...Well, my darling grandmother had her favourite, Jemima."

Gibbs sounded far too smug as he coaxed Ducky further.

"Sounds interesting."

"You wouldn't think so, Jethro. It was a soft, white - well, dirty-white actually - slipper that was used infrequently yet to great effect when it was felt I was in one of my - how did she put it now - 'wild moments of sin'."

And seeing both Tony's and Gibbs' eyes shoot to him in speculation, the M.E. shook his head mildly.

"I see your ideas of sin and grandmama's are not quite in harmony. No, a slight tardiness to do her bidding was enough to invoke a showing of her 'little friend', but a laziness to study irked her dearly and would ensure I took my seat with a certain degree of trepidation...Though she was a charming lady, to be sure."

Tony could feel Gibbs' eyes on him.

"So...a slipper."

This was torture and Tony closed his eyes. Maybe if he shut them out they would just go away.

Fat chance.

"Anything else?" Gibbs prodded.

"Not unless you include mother's housemaid giving me a twisted ear if I dared trail in mud on her freshly scrubbed floors, but apart from that I made it to this present day relatively unscathed."

"Mmmmm."

The recumbent man tried reading into that unclear verbal sound, but his cognitive skills weren't at their brightest while he was still so ill and contemplating his future life expectancy.

He started when he realised Ducky was looming over him again, a syringe held ready in his hand.

Tony's eyes widened apprehensively; he hated needles with a vengeance and seeing his reaction, Ducky tried to soothe him.

"Now, my dear boy,this isn't going to hurt...much." And seeing the deer-caught-in-headlights look, said, "I trust I'm not going to have to ask Jethro to hold you still again, am I?"

"Again?" Tony squeaked, never taking his eyes off the needle that was getting closer and closer.

"Yes, you weren't too co-operative the last time and I required Jethro to restrain you while I administered the treatment - just something to keep your temperature down while you fight off this nasty infection."

Reluctantly, trying to conceal the blush to his cheeks that came from this disclosure, Tony held out his left arm, the ache of muscles causing him to wince.

With nary a moment's hesitation, Ducky smiled sweetly, shook his head in quiet amusement and pushed aside the bed covers. Then urging Tony slightly onto his side away from him, he reached for the waistband of his boxers - which Tony tried unsuccessfully to prevent - and lowered them slightly to reveal an expanse of hip and buttock. Wiping an area with some antiseptic, he swiftly delivered the syringe's contents with one fluid motion, almost before Tony's indignant "Hey" of protest.

The "Ouch!" that followed was more intense.

Retracting the needle, Ducky again rubbed the area gently and replaced the boxer's in their original position as he also did with the covers.

"There, all done and dusted. It will feel a tad sore, but that should see you through the next twelve hours and depending on how you go, you might then start some oral medication. We'll have to see."

The elderly M.E. allowed his gaze to rest on his young patient whose discomfort and mortification were all too obvious. His expression took on a more sober aspect.

"Let this be a lesson to you, young Anthony - disregard your doctor's advice at your peril."

And thinking this moment couldn't get any worse, he was to find out that it could.

"Well if he should forget this one, there'll be another lesson for DiNozzo, and I can assure you Ducky, he won't forget mine!"

The threat was all too explicit and Tony found himself cringing at what might be held in store.

--

While Gibbs showed Ducky out, Tony contemplated his immediate future and found it didn't look all that promising.

He turned on his side - the one just punctured and realised his mistake instantly as a deep throbbing pain added to his woes. Grimacing, he returned to lying on his back, staring at the mimosa coloured ceiling.

"You see something up there that's going to help you, DiNozzo?"

"Guess it's not looking too good right now Gibbs, but I have to tell you, in my defence..." Tony's voice trailed off at the Gibbs' look. "I'm shutting up now, 'cos you really don't want to know."

"Oh, there's lots of things I want to know, and you're going to provide me with the answers."

Feeling very much on a par with the fox being hunted by a pack of starving hounds, its scent hailed and followed, Tony's gaze dropped to anywhere not in the vicinity of the glowering man.

Unfortunately, his bladder insisted that right now was the moment he really had to go, which meant passing Gibbs. He wasn't too sure he wanted to be in smacking distance the way he was feeling. However, nature couldn't be denied and with a groan of discomfort, Tony pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Tony winced at the tone.

"Er...I've gotta pee."

As nothing else was said, the agent continued his movements, trudging past Gibbs while anticipating a solid head smack. He was somewhat unnerved when no impacting hand reached his head. Maybe, he thought, it would happen on his return, it made sense that Gibbs wouldn't want an accident should Tony be delayed.

So when the invalid felt the firm hand on his bicep he flinched as if struck. And Tony's surprise was compounded when the ex-marine wrapped his arm round Tony's waist and took some of his weight.

Flustered more than he cared to reveal, Tony stammered, "Er...Boss, I...I'm going to...er...take a leak."

Gibbs studied him closely.

"This isn't the first time we've done this particular walk, DiNozzo."

And with a heightened sense of the unreal, Tony found himself being walked to the bathroom, but at the door he faltered, clearly not at ease with the situation.

Plastering a hesitant smile on his pale face, even though it was an effort, the young agent turned and blocked the entrance.

"I...I can take it from here, Boss."

"You think so?"

Not quite understanding the faint smile that played across Gibbs' face, Tony's unease grew.

"We've been through this before, DiNozzo and I'm not about to let you fall flat on your face again, so like it or not - I'm with you on this."

Tony's appalled expression made zero impact on Gibbs' resolve and, with a gentle shove, Tony was encouraged through the doorway to stand before the toilet.

With his back to the older man, Tony stood desperate but still reluctant to do what urgently needed doing. Turning his head, he finally found his voice and stuttered, "I...I...r.really think I can manage!"

If ever there was a plea, this was it.

Arms now folded, Gibbs gave a heavy sigh about to speak when Tony blurted out, "Look, if this is part of my punishment, I...I..."

His words trailed off into a miserable silence and Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he turned Tony to face him. Then taking a firm grip on his chin he gave it a slight shake to ensure eye contact, no matter how fleeting, was made.

Misery and desperation vied with each other in green depths.

"I...I promise I won't pass out."

Again, Tony found himself being scrutinised for such a length of time that he began to fidget, moving from one foot to the other, a clear warning signal to Gibbs if ever he needed one. He smiled as a distant memory of his tiny daughter assailed his senses - such foot dancing always meant that Mom and Dad needed to find facilities and fast.

"You'd better not!"

Gibbs moved to the doorway, aware of the relief in his senior agent's eyes.

He paused and smiled to see Tony wince again.

"Oh and DiNozzo, I haven't even decided on your punishment yet, but for the record - I don't do torture. Pain yes, torture no."

He exited to a heartfelt groan and smiled in amusement, not sure whether it was inspired by the relief of having some privacy or concern for what was most definitely to come.

--

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

T.L.C. Gibbs' Style

Part 5

He would have liked nothing better than to shower, but accepted he didn't have the energy of a half drowned kitten so he made do with a swift stand up wash and then he put up with the ignominy of being escorted back to bed where he collapsed, noting that the sheets had been changed for crisp, fresh ones.

He sighed as his body sank into the bedding, aware that Gibbs was now standing by the window looking out.

He tried gauging the man's mood.

"Er...thanks, Boss."

He got an almost imperceptible nod and again, he couldn't help but begin to feel the keenness of the imposition placed on his superior.

Then, as if reading his mind, Gibbs turned and fixed him with a long, hard glare.

The undercurrent of tension in the room became more apparent as Tony found himself holding his breath.

"So...you ready to explain why you disobeyed my orders to stay at the Command Post?"

Even aching as badly as he was, Tony's reflexive instinct was to scoot further down in the bed as if he could hide under the covers.

Concealing his smile, Gibbs recognised the gesture for exactly what it was. Evasive.

"That's not going to work, DiNozzo."

"Boss?"

The all too innocent query almost had Gibbs where Tony wanted him. Almost.

Tilting his head to the side, the ex-gunny looked closely at his senior field agent, noting the weariness and pallor, but also seeing something there that wasn't right. He needed to make that look go away otherwise he knew recovery wasn't going to be smooth and for sure there'd be a next time when his senior field agent would make an unacceptable decision to put his life in jeopardy.

_'As if anything ever went smoothly when it concerned DiNozzo_,' he thought wryly.

"Sometime this year might be a good idea," he stated dryly, making Tony wince.

He could see Tony begin to squirm, but he was not going to be put off. He'd put Tony in the Command Post for a reason - the weather had been foul and he'd been fully aware of what might happen if said agent were out in the elements - case in point, he thought grimly.

The line of questioning was, however, clearly unpopular.

"Like I said before, Boss...I realised that every exit hadn't been covered."

"So?"

Tony refrained from rolling his eyes. It had got him a head slap on previous occasions and right now he wasn't sure his fragile head could take it.

His eyes dropped to the floor.

"So I went to cover that base." His words were flat, without life.

Gibbs speared him without further warning. "And why didn't you use that thing inside your skull to radio Agent Denny? It was included in his area of cover. Or am I mistaken?"

Tony's colour faded to an even paler shade as he realised where the interrogation was heading.

"I asked you a question, DiNozzo!"

The silence was disturbing. And so the older man decided to up the ante.

"So presumably you felt you knew better than me, could supersede my orders to--."

"No!" The denial was emphatic.

Lightning quick, Gibbs snapped, "What do you mean 'No!' - how else should I read it?"

Tony winced - again. He knew that tone well, knew it boded nothing good in his immediate future, but no matter how much of an ass Denny was, he wasn't going to be the one to voice it. The man wasn't on his team, thank God, so...

His gaze flickered to the older man but almost instantly skittered away like a beetle whose dark world had been unexpectedly opened to the elements.

There were certain rules he lived by and sick or not he wasn't about to break this one. And as Gibbs watched the various expressions flicker over his agent's face, the end result was clear.

The DiNozzo stubborn look had over the years since childhood been honed to perfection and now it was applied with firm resolve.

Tony inhaled deeply, but it was a mistake as the hitch in his breathing morphed into another raw coughing fit that had him curled over the edge of the bed fighting for air.

He was vaguely aware of Gibbs supporting him as the violence of the spasm threatened to expel both his lungs, and he would have liked nothing better than to ask, order, _beg _to be left alone, to not have his boss see him like this, but he could barely take in enough air to keep the dark spots in his vision at bay, what about speak.

Eventually, the spasms lessened, allowing him to slump in exhaustion, half in, half out of the bed.

And finally Gibbs voice penetrated his ringing ears surprising him with the gentle concern conveyed.

"Easy does it, Tony...Come on, let me help you."

Whether he wanted the assistance or not, it was out of his hands, he was helpless and could only accept as he was carefully set back into bed, an extra pillow placed behind him so that he was almost sitting up, the strong, gentle hands holding him until he'd gained his equilibrium.

Scowling, Tony felt the saliva and thick mucus that had dribbled down his chin, but before he could raise the back of his hand a cool damp cloth was swiped across his face, erasing the sweat along with the embarrassing tears and other stuff which had him squirming away from the care whilst paradoxically longing for it.

"Quit fidgeting, DiNozzo."

"I...I'm...good," he gasped.

"The hell you are."

But as his painful vulnerability assailed him in all its powerful intensity, Tony wanted nothing more than to bury his head in his hands and cry. The raw recollection of Gibbs in the basement cursing him out on the phone, complaining that he was a 'lazy son of a bitch and needed his ass kicking, struck him anew - an excruciating blow.

It was intolerable.

Did Gibbs, he wondered frantically, think he was putting this on to get attention? His face burst into a deep hot blaze of colour and without thinking he jerked up, thrusting aside the covers and swinging his legs over the side. He had to get away.

Returning from the bathroom, Gibbs eyed the sick man with exasperation.

"What the hell--."

He caught Tony just as he was about to make a spectacular fall, and holding him under his arms Gibbs pushed him back on the bed, only to find him attempt the same inexplicable move.

"Hey!"

The ex-gunny's sharp bark stilled the struggling man, but only for an instant and as the ex-marine saw the wild determination in the fevered eyes he knew that the brief respite wouldn't last long unless he brought the situation under speedy control.

With one hand splayed over Tony's heaving, struggling chest, Gibbs grabbed Tony's chin in a vice-like hold.

"Hey! Quit this. Now!"

The spark of rebellion was still there so he added a more severe shake and added softly, "You keep this up and your backside will be getting close up and uncomfortable with one of Ducky's slippers. Do you hear me, DiNozzo?"

Gibbs gave him a further shake to emphasise the point, watching the flame of dismay wash over his cheeks, accentuating the fever that still lay in his eyes.

"Well that's one way of kicking my ass, I suppose," Tony muttered sullenly, deliberately refusing to look Gibbs in the eye.

For a second the older man frowned, perplexed by the words.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

And unable to stop himself, Tony spat back, "I screwed up, I admit it and I may be a son of a bitch but, hell, I'm not stupid and I'm not lazy, Gibbs, not when it counts."

As much as he detested it, he couldn't prevent the childish whine in his voice as he made clear his protest at what he considered an injustice.

Which could, he admitted, be the reason why Gibbs was now looking at him as if he could, at the very least, shoot him down. In flames. Just for good measure.

When he next spoke, Gibbs' tone was deceptively cool and composed.

Tony, his heart still beating fit to burst, went on high alert.

"So you heard me talking on the phone about giving the lazy son of a bitch a good kick, huh?"

Tony didn't bother to nod, but now kept his eyes riveted on the grey-haired man looming over him ominously.

"And is that why you decided to do a bunk? Which, by the way, resulted in you nearly frying your insides to a crisp."

Tony dared admit nothing. There was something definitely off in this scenario and he was beginning to get just an inkling that he might have jumped the gun with his hasty decision to run.

A good head slap right now might have been the welcome solution by both parties to lower the tension, but one, Gibbs knew Tony was in no fit state to receive this form of reprimand. And two, if he laid his hands on his junior agent at this minute, the way he was feeling, he was liable to knock him into next week so strong were his feelings. So physical was out. Which left the alternative, and whereas it might not be as satisfactory, the psychological way could still do the job.

Stepping back and out of Tony's personal space, Gibbs continued to give the sick man a critical glare.

"We're not done here, DiNozzo, but it can wait. Right now you're going to sleep."

Again he saw the slight challenge in the hazel eyes and Gibbs paused, deepening his glare.

"Sleep means you close your eyes and rest."

The ex-gunny raised a warning finger to stave off any possible defiance.

"You dare to get out of that bed before I tell you to and I'll come down so hard on your sorry ass, sick or not, you won't know what's day or night...have you got that?"

The lump in Tony's throat would only allow him to nod, albeit reluctantly, but it was a nod all the same.

Satisfied that he'd got his message across, Gibbs removed the extra pillow, pressing a gentle hand against his agent's now pale forehead and brushing back his hair, satisfied that the sick man's temperature was slowly returning to normal. And only when the slow, deep, even breathing indicated sleep did he leave the side of the recumbent man.

--

Staring suspiciously at the proffered bowl, Tony made no move to accept what Ducky was holding out to him.

"Anthony, it's just oatmeal with honey. You need to eat something if you intend regaining your lost body weight. So, come on, eat up."

Tony took the bowl, his scowl remaining in place, and it must have reminded Ducky of something in his diverse past, because he asked, "Did I ever tell you about the time I was a young doctor, fresh out of medical school?"

--

Gibbs, who had just returned from headquarters, walked in and saw the glazed look of his senior agent with Ducky deeply involved in telling yet another of his infamous stories, with a bowl of untouched food resting on the bed between them.

Taking pity on the young man under his care, he decided intervention was necessary and at an appropriate point stepped in, saying, "Ducky, I think Palmer's looking for you; why don't you head back. I've got things covered here and anyway, McGee was right behind me so he should be walking in as I speak."

Not in the least fazed by the interruption, the M.E. obligingly got to his feet and seemed to notice the oatmeal that still hadn't been touched.

"That needs eating, my boy."

"I'll take care of it, Ducky, don't worry."

And Gibbs reached for the bowl and proffered a spoon of the cereal to his agent.

The mutinous expression he was greeted with and the outraged, "I can feed myself!" almost had him laughing out loud.

Fortunately, a light tap on the door and the entry of the computer expert on Gibb's team produced an immediate effect on the ailing man and ignoring Gibbs and the spoon he called enthusiastically, "Hey, Probie, what gift have you brought to cheer up a starving man?"

Characteristically, McGee frowned, often a little hesitant when it came to following his colleague's train of thought, but not on this occasion, though he did start umming and ahhing until Tony felt it only fair to put the man out of his misery.

"No sweat, it would have probably been a waste anyway."

He was still pointedly ignoring the proffered food and wondering how much longer Gibbs would wait to give him a head slap.

"Not if I'd brought you those chocolate chip hazelnut cookies from your favourite deli," McGee stated smugly.

Tony's eyes lit up with lust, but the light instantly died when McGee grinned wickedly and held up empty hands.

Scowling, he retorted, "You do realise you're torturing me, Probie and you know what that'll get you when I'm up and in top form?" The menace was all too evident and had the younger agent frowning worriedly, never sure whether Tony was joking or not. He decided he'd better try appeasing the patient.

"Abby said to tell you the deli's out of your favourites, but she'll bring you something later."

Satisfied, Tony again looked with distaste at the spoon which hadn't moved. McGee was now looking at it too.

"You two finished?"

"Yes."

"No!"

"You." Gibbs' eyes fixed on the new arrival. "Here."

As McGee practically snapped to attention, Gibbs indicated that Tim should take his place whereupon the bowl and spoon were thrust into his hands.

"Make sure he eats this - all of it."

And walking out of the room, he paused in the doorway, not even bothering to look back.

"Don't even think it, DiNozzo. I'll know."

He smiled broadly as he listened to the put-upon groan of a highly frustrated senior field agent who had just been sbpiy to order McGee to eat the stone-cold oatmeal.

--

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

_To all of you who have taken the time to read this, thank you. And to all of you who went that step further and sent me reviews, please accept my grateful thanks. I've had an amazing time writing this story, and it's made the experience all the more special for getting to know so many of you._

T.L.C. Gibbs' Style

Part 6 (Final chapter)

"Look at me, DiNozzo."

Getting only a glimmer of eye contact before hazel eyes skittishly veered away, Gibbs snorted and grabbed his senior field agent's chin in a firm hold, not letting go.

Eyes wide with apprehension, Tony could only wait for the proverbial axe to fall.

"Have I got your full and undivided attention now?" the team leader demanded dryly.

A faint nod allowed him to drop his hand, though he remained close enough to cause damage if necessary.

Ducky had that morning given Tony the all clear to move to the living room, after four days of being confined to bed, and that's where he was watching an old western movie of Jimmie Stewarts when Gibbs had come in and autocratically switched off the set. Then sweeping Tony's feet off the coffee table he sat himself on it, facing his now wary agent.

"Ducky tells me you'll be cleared for light duties after the weekend."

"That's right, Boss. Up and at 'em. Ziva and McGee have been left to their own devices for too long. I need to get back to keep an eye on them. Who knows what they get up to when you're not around and I'm not there too!"

He tried to inject some of his famous jocularity into his voice, but it was a weak attempt knowing that Gibbs looked to be on a mission. And if Tony wasn't mistaken, he knew what that mission was.

The cold coil of nervous tension tightened its hold in the pit of his stomach. Ice blue eyes seemed to pierce his defences, and Tony waited, dreading what was to come.

"I want to know something, DiNozzo, are you capable of acting like an adult when it comes to your welfare, because I have to tell you, everything I've seen points to the contrary?"

Taken aback by the unexpected angle of this long-awaited conversation, the younger man sat nervously on the sofa, his confusion apparent.

"Boss, I--."

Gibbs head jerked up, eyes flashing fire, instantly quelling anything further his agent was about to say.

"You know, a good leader always knows when to delegate."

And instantly any cocky bluster that lurked just under the surface ready to make an appearance evaporated and Gibbs saw Tony blink as he struggled to conceal the brimming hurt that sparked for an instant, before the shutters came crashing down.

Here was the opening he'd been offered. Here he was being given the opportunity to explain his own failure to inform Agent Denny of the glaring omission made to guard the exit.

But the only reaction to the offer was that his mouth set in a mutinous line.

At the same time, his defences kicked in and Tony hunched his shoulder, as his eyes again swerved away from his superiors', unable to maintain any further eye contact as the enormity of Gibbs' words shattered his equilibrium. Gibbs was his mentor, damn it, his hero if truth be known and now the man was basically telling him that he couldn't hack it as a team leader!

The hem of his t-shirt suddenly became intensely fascinating and his fingers worked the material, pulling it backwards and forwards, praying that the blood he could feel rushing to his face wasn't as glaringly obvious as it felt. He concentrated on keeping his face averted.

"DiNozzo."

Gibbs' voice carried a soft, but unmistakeable warning and wincing, Tony's chin angled upwards. He met Gibbs' glance with a painful show of...nothing.

Gibbs eyes narrowed severely.

"Are you ready to tell me what _really_ happened?"

Tony swallowed his dismay and shrugged.

"I've told you already, Boss."

He sounded defeated.

Gibbs face was devoid of all expression as he said with dangerous calm, "I'm not permitted to have you scrubbing the toilets with a toothbrush, much as I'd like to, DiNozzo, but I can reduce you to Probie."

Appalled green eyes clashed with blue, the sharp intake of breath revealing the younger man's shock as the blood drained from his face making his eyes burn with a feverish brightness that had nothing to do with his illness.

"But Boss, I didn't intend getting sick," he protested, "it was just bad--."

"Shut up, DiNozzo!"

Tony's eyes settled on a spot at his feet while his lips again set in a thin line of stubborn resolve.

The head slap, when it came was as unexpected as it was shocking and Tony's yelp was in no way exaggerated as he rubbed at the tender spot on the side of his head.

"That's for failing to take your health seriously and putting your own life at risk."

He tried ducking the second swat and failed miserably, but happily the blow was nowhere near as heavy.

"And I don't know whether that's for trying to cover for someone's else's screw-up or for failing to accept that you are... second to none. Understand, DiNozzo. You. Are. Second.To. None."

Gibbs watched in growing exasperation as his agent's confusion seemed to grow rather than diminish. Tony was usually much quicker at following his boss's erratic changes in mental direction.

The older man reached to deliver another head slap, but stilled his hand as the younger man's eyes suddenly took on a light that shed the sick worry that hung like a wet blanket over him.

"Boss?"

He shifted restlessly on the sofa, hardly daring to meet Gibbs' intense gaze. Then like a chameleon he cocked his head, a wry smile touching his lips.

"Are you trying to tell me that I'm as good as you?"

Ice blue eyes narrowed ominously and Tony held his breath.

"Don't push it, DiNozzo."

--

A long, painful week had passed since last Tony had been in the bullpen, so it was with a swagger to his step and a whistle on his lips that he exited the elevator and turned towards his desk.

He stopped, confused, falling silent. And for a long moment he stared at his desk, a desk which was now occupied by Agent Lee, who was looking highly uncomfortable.

Bristling with annoyance, he ground out her name ready to let rip his own reprimand that she get her butt out of his chair and get his stuff back where it should be, unless she wanted...

"DiNozzo, you're with me."

Tony wanted nothing more than to ignore this unwelcome interruption.

"Boss, I--."

Gibbs stepped into Tony's personal space blocking his view of Lee.

"_**I **_told Agent Lee to set up her place there."

Tony looked around, checking to see if by some miracle, room had been found and an empty desk awaited him nearby. He paled when it was clear no such thing had happened. He looked to McGee and Ziva, but both had their heads down, their noses practically touching their screens. It seemed that they knew what was looming on the horizon and it obviously wasn't pretty.

Surely Gibbs wasn't going to do what he'd threatened, reduce him to the status of probationer, not after what he'd said. It couldn't be!

And reading him like a book, Gibbs stated coldly. "There's a position on McCormack's team that's suddenly come up."

Tony closed his eyes to hide his anguish, stilling the trembling of emotion. When he met Gibbs' eyes again they were blocks of flint stone.

Waiting for a moment before continuing, Gibbs stated flatly, "It seems Agent Denny has been given an unexpected posting to some distant location."

Tony's eyes instantly shot back to Gibbs only now daring to believe that...

"Are you deaf, DiNozzo? I said you're with me!"

Scurrying to follow his team leader, Tony found himself in the elevator, descending lower than normal.

"Er...Boss, where are we going?"

The hand shot out, the elevator halting. Tony waited expectantly totally unprepared for what was coming.

Stabbing the air with his finger, Gibbs demanded icily, "Did you honestly think you'd get off Scot Free?"

Tony froze at the grim twist on his boss's lips.

"Your desk is already set up and waiting for you...in Archives."

"Archives?" Tony couldn't have sounded more dismayed.

"That's right, DiNozzo. Archives. You are going to be living, sleeping, breathing and dreaming of this place for the next month."

"Month!" he yelped, his eyes growing wilder as his revulsion increased.

"But Boss--."

"Argue with me and I can make it longer, unless of course you'd prefer to change this assignment completely and move to McCormack's team."

Shaking his head in disbelief, Tony contemplated his future and shuddered.

Like most archive facilities, the room was like a gloomy tomb, situated in the lowest levels of the facilities, with row upon row of shelves housing case reports that went back years and years.

He stared at the vast array of shelves and their contents.

"Am I on cold cases then?" he asked despondently.

"No."

Tony frowned, even more confused. "Er...what then?"

He really didn't like the predatory gleam in Gibbs' eyes as they settled on him.

"Your job is to start transferring information onto discs. Paper doesn't last for ever; we need this stuff shifted to meet with the times."

"But Boss, you know I can't type."

"Oh, I know that very well, DiNozzo." The statement was sickeningly smug.

Collapsing onto his chair, Tony stared morosely at the files already placed on the desk awaiting his attention.

"Any lack of enthusiasm for this assignment is going to be met with zero tolerance, DiNozzo. You should know that the Director herself is keenly interested in this, so she'll be keeping an eye on the speed with which you carry out your duties."

The groan Tony tried to stifle could still be heard as Gibbs leaned in ever closer to his deflated agent.

"DiNozzo, I want to make one thing clear. You try to cover up another agent's screwups or do anything like this ever again and you'll be wishing I was reaching for that slipper, because that will be nothing compared to what I'll do to you. Are we clear on that?"

The 'Yes, Boss' was both immediate and contrite.

--

It was later in the day, having returned from a search of one of the shelves for information missing from the file he was trying to put into some semblance of order, that he found the brown paper bag on his desk. He looked around, but no one was about. Upon opening it, he smiled to see his favourite blend of coffee and the chocolate chip hazelnut cookie.

Grateful for this show of affection, Tony thumbed his cell.

"You always know when to come through, Abby, thanks."

As he listened to Abby speaking on the end of the phone, a frown marred his forehead.

"You didn't?...Yea, Caramel mocha chino and my favourite cookie."

"You sure about that - you're not kidding? Then how..."

He spotted the figure in the shadows and continued, "...gotta go, Abbs."

He snapped his phone shut and waited patiently for the shadow to step into the light.

As Gibbs approached his desk Tony grinned cheekily, only to have it erased when the older man reached over and smacked him.

"Ow! What was that for?" he demanded aggrieved. There was a definite whinge to his voice.

"I noticed you missed lunch." Gibbs stared at him intently. "Did you forget what I said would happen if you decided to ignore your health, DiNozzo?"

"I had to!" His hands flapped in the air to indicate the mess surrounding him, his alarm evident. "I'll be here for the next six months if I don't..." He suddenly noted he was close to yet another head slap - this was already a record for the number of swats he'd received in a week - "...and it won't happen again - I'll eat a highly nutritious lunch which will combine all the essential food groups to ensure--Ouch!...Thank you, Boss."

As Gibbs turned to go, Tony had a silly smile plastered to his face.

"Oh, Boss? Where did you get the cookie from?" He asked innocently. Too innocently.

"The usual," was the deadpan reply.

"Really?" Tony's eyes were dancing with high spirits. "Funny you should say that 'cos Abby went to the deli round the corner and they were out."

"Maybe they baked some more."

Tony watched him carefully before stating softly, seriously, "Or maybe you drove all the way across town to the partner store, just so you could get me my favourite."

Keeping his features inscrutable, Gibbs stated softly, "I wouldn't do that for my best friend, DiNozzo, so why would you think I'd do it for you?"

The two men stared each other down, neither willing to look away.

Tony smiled confidently and at last Gibbs knew that everything was going to be alright with his senior field agent, even before the young agent stated audaciously," Because I'm second to none."

And there it was; the answering smile that had smitten three wives and more women than Tony could ever count. It was a rare event, but when captured - it was pure magic.

Returning to stand in front of Tony's desk, the older man reached over, mussing the hair of the seated agent in a rare show of affection causing Tony to groan loudly, except his own answering grin told a different story.

"Thanks, Boss."

Far more was conveyed in those two words than simple gratitude for a snack, and it seemed the grey-haired team leader understood well the silent message as he gave a relaxed wave of the hand while walking away.

"You're welcome, DiNozzo."

The End


End file.
